A Very Short Engagement
by ninety6tears
Summary: Written for a trope meme for the prompt "pretending to be married," though it went into pretend engagement. (There are only a couple contexts in which I could see this happening and I sorta went for the more unlikely one.) (AU, Cassie/Rob)


He was in the same booth where Frank would have left him, by now over an hour ago, shortly before I started making my excuses to Vicky and her buddies about ditching the party. It was two in the morning and the pub was dim and only slowly churning with drinkers; it was the solitude of him that made him stand out, his eyes dotting right over me after I walked in before he looked back out the window.

I ordered myself a pint before I went to go meet him, checking him over peripherally. He was tall, a little too thin to be my type, not that it mattered, but there was something in the way his posture negotiated his size that might have caught my attention if I hadn't already been looking for him. He had his arms crossed and resting on the table in front of an ashtray with a long wait's worth of cigarettes already stubbed out, something strong and thoughtful keeping him away from a look of impatience.

"Rob Ryan?" I was sitting down across from him as soon as he turned at his name. "Sorry you had to wait so long, and by that I mean my sympathies, not that it's my fault. Frank feels more loved or something when I'm willing to come out on short notice. Cassie Maddox, you might know, but it'll be Lexie tomorrow so don't get too friendly, right?"

"...I can remember to call you by the right name, I think," he said, possibly a little insulted, and still stuck in the expression he'd had when I sat down that meant that I wasn't what he'd expected. I was used to that look—even when people expect a woman to be undercover they expect something different from me; this is probably why Frank likes me so much—but there was something new about it with this guy. More curious.

I said, "It's not your fault, I'm just feeling like he might as well have pulled somebody out of Central Casting. No offense."

"You mean because I have no undercover experience," he said, a rueful smile twisting up and his eyes turning expressively over my outfit just slowly enough for me to notice. "For the record, I was pretty surprised by the offer. I don't buy that he couldn't find anybody in the whole division who could do the accent."

"He was having a hard time looking, he told me, but he didn't go into details. And then apparently somebody just happened to mention, there's this guy who picked up a London lip, he's on DV but he can keep a straight face, no problem."

"And that's it," Rob said, the smile turning mildly nervous.

"No, there's something else, I guarantee it." I shook my head. "I don't know how long you talked to him—Frank probably doesn't seem like the type to get caught up in the alchemy, but if he sees something work he'll use it again without caring why. I think this is the biggest hint I've gotten that no one else on undercover wants to work with me. He didn't think they would buy some guy who secretly resents me as my knight in shining armor." I looked at him over a long sip of my beer. Frank also must have had a reason for wanting the two of us to meet when he wasn't there, something about the intimate conspiring feel of it, but I would have felt more odd voicing that idea out loud.

Rob looked back at me, pondering. "Maybe there's some jealousy there; you're young and working a pretty serious job."

I shrugged.

"Mackey," he commented vaguely. "Do you like him?"

No one had asked me how I felt about my boss before; they had only given the most indirect of scowly implications about his reasons for hiring me. A lot of people don't take well to Frank and I felt like I was supposed to say no. I shrugged again. "Yeah, I do. I mean, I'm not about to invite him over for Christmas or anything..."

Rob chuckled; I realized he didn't exactly disagree. "He's very sure of himself."

"That's one way of putting it."

"So what's the story with Lexie and Dominic?"

I gave him a tired look. "You'd think it could be explained away so easily, right? The thing is, Lexie's had a fiancé in London the entire time we've been doing the operation and it was never a big deal; it gave me an excuse to be away for a weekend if I needed off for something, nobody questioned it, they had no reason to. Then this girl Rachel starts asking about why he never visits, and gosh but when is the wedding _anyway_ , and somehow manages to ask enough questions that it's this whole ordeal that people are half-suspicious about. And I wasn't worried about it, but Frank thinks people are starting to suspect I pulled this Dommy out of my arse, and because of this awkward conversation I got into about it a couple nights ago he calls me up yesterday morning about how we've got to produce the lover-boy and Lexie's birthday would be a perfect reason for him to show up and surprise her."

"Not my area..." Rob was putting a hand on the table, hesitant to say, "But might they just assume you're making up a boyfriend without it being a problem?"

"It's a characterization thing. Lexie's supposed to be true blue, full-on honest all the time to the point that it's over-sharing. Frank has this idea that even if they thought I was capable of some little white lie, it would hardly burn me, but unconsciously they might be capable of accusing me of something else later on."

Rob nodded after a second, trying to get his weak lighter to stay sparked. "That makes enough sense."

I got out my book of matches and tossed it across the table. "I'll admit it does, but don't tell Frank I said. Anyway, if you're doubtful yourself, why do the job? He said you don't want to be on undercover officially; I just wondered."

"I don't want to stay in DV forever and I haven't gotten many chances for a leg-up."

"So you want on Murder, maybe?"

"Murder," he said, "not maybe."

"Fair enough," I said, feeling kind of warmed in the presence of that certainty and no longer worried this guy was secretly doubting he could ever pull this off. I liked him.

"Though we'll see whether or not I'd get any help from this. I think your Mackey's half expecting me to blow it."

I shook my head. "I don't pretend to understand most of what goes on in his head, but he wouldn't have sent me along if he hadn't made up his mind about you. He told me the first order of business is convincing people you'd actually want to marry me, and I agree it's a tough one."

He blinked. "Why?" After a second I realized it wasn't reflexive flattery, just confused.

"Keep in mind, Lexie's not a total simpleton but still she's just barely academic, and we're having a drink with the type of kids who will see the Londoner and find some way to accept that you're pursuing literary criticism even if you tell them you're a pipefitter."

"Pipefitter." Rob considered while I signaled to the bartender to bring him a pint. After a few seconds he said, "We could go for repressed homosexual."

I laughed, startled.

"Or they could just assume what they assume."

"And they might assume..." I gestured vaguely at him, not sure of what I was about to say. "If you show up like that, the clothes are a little too nice for a heterosexual civil servant, I'm just saying, but we could always make you show up in a tracksuit."

"I'll take that as a compliment; and don't even joke about it. Anyway, even if I show up in a three-piece suit and go home with the bartender they'll still be satisfied that Dominic exists."

"That's what I tried to tell Frank and it's good enough for me." I half-smiled at the server who put down the drink. "But we've still got a two-year relationship to get straight. Did he tell you how we met?"

Everything went fine. We worked some aloofness into Dominic so if Rob was ever wrong-footed at the tavern it came across more standoffish, but Lexie's uni mates were too drunk to be very bothered by this and everyone was chatting loudly and throwing darts a couple hours in.

Rob and I coincided in the halls that led off to the bathrooms, and had our first out-of-character small talk that night while everyone else who looked around the corner would assume we were having some candid snuggle.

"A very happy unbirthday to you," he said, lighting my cigarette for me from my matches he'd absently gotten home with the night before, then tucked them into my pocket instead of handing them to me.

I grinned. "You've still got a couple hours to fuck up and blow my cover if you were hoping for something more exciting."

He scoffed, something almost like a blush creeping across his smile.

"Come on, I'm sure you were hoping for a shoot-out or something."

"If anything does happen I'll take the bullet for you if you don't mind," he said. "You never know, it could be my ticket to a quick transfer."

"I'll work on my ' _Oh no, please don't die on me baby, no_!'"

"Just don't cry on my jacket, alright. It's brand new."

I gave his arm a light shove, companionable and automatic.

Later when the night was winding down he did the "Need to pick up some things, I'll see you later at the hotel," his arm circling over my neck and pulling me in.

"Okay, love you," I said, and I went in to kiss him at the same time he leaned down a little, but when our eyes met something fell away. He picked up from the hesitation so quickly I could have imagined it, pretending he'd been going for my temple all along and pressing a warm kiss there.

Only loud enough for me, his voice tickling into my ear, he muttered, "See you around."

My arms had somehow gotten squeezed around him. I said, "Yeah," and he pulled away and left.

Later when I met up with Frank he would brightly ask, "Did you kiss him goodbye?", half teasing and half interested.

I would roll my eyes and only say, "They bought it."


End file.
